


Sole survivor

by SuddenlyOranges (FamRoyalty)



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms, Red vs. Blue
Genre: Caboose is a Spartan, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Michael J. Caboose, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SPARTAN-II, Sad with a Happy Ending, Spartan!Caboose, What-If, i think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-28 06:25:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17782274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FamRoyalty/pseuds/SuddenlyOranges
Summary: Spartan-121 died honorably after failed augmentations.Michael J. Caboose appears in a box canyon with static against his head.





	1. Where his mind is fuzzy like the bunny

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [ever wonder why we're here?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17621483) by [SuddenlyOranges (FamRoyalty)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FamRoyalty/pseuds/SuddenlyOranges). 



The air here isn’t how he remembers it. ~~_How do you remember that?_~~ It’s softer, deeper, broader and wider – Like fabric softener, like a bunny, and maybe the bunny was fuzzy. He can almost see it, small and bouncy. With each breath, the air seemed to expand inside his lungs, filling his chest to the capacity with something that could only be described as clean. But not really.

When you get used to breathing stale air after years of space, on a command ship, the air is recycled; you share it with everyone else, like, you feel it. It makes no sense, he doesn't make sense.

Where is everyone? 

Where are his friends, did he have friends? His head hurts more, his muscles twisting and to keep busy he pops his shoulder out of its socket and in again. And again.

 

 _In and out_. Pop, crack.

 

 _In and out_. He electric fuzziness spreads to his lips, his cheeks and his hair.

 

 _In and out_. Men in white barge in, needles in hand and guns pit against his skull. Yelling to stop as the men in white pinch his skin, and for a moment he's grateful that the fuzzy bunny is not around to see him like this.

 

* * *

 

 

When he comes around, his heartbeats are rhythmic, a low beating, as he finds himself being lulled by the suddenly intense calmness of the situation

His sheets underneath him feels like one big thick of paper against his skin, scratchy, and itchy, but it’s still softer than the ~~_Kevlar body_~~ _. . . ~~~~._

 It’s thinner too, the slight breeze touches his skin and it sends his skin to a frenzied of goosebumps.

That he’s glad to be back in the deeper, broader, world in his mind. There's a blinking machine, and there's a little blue button, 

 

Blue, blue, blue sky with the soft, soft, soft clouds and the sun that is never too hot and never too far away. Sun as if teaching for him, and there's others too, _Blue is not soft, Blue is -_

Deeper, broader,  _blue_. Blue. Save and warm –  _Home_.

He become very, veryyy used to routines because your entire existence is built off of following and obeying, like a doggie he saw once. It was big and fluffy, _where is -_

_"Don't move or you'll get another shot."_

He said it out loud, didn’t he? How cliché. Like scrubbing blood off armor after a battle. He saw a show once –

He wants Blue. He --

 _despises_  it. He hates it. It makes his gut twist, like he’s on the verge of throwing up and he’s not sure what it is, what it means, but he  _fucking_  hates it.

He shouldn't be cussing, that's bad, because then he'll. His head his hurting again.

The Blue merges, and it's an ugly shade that turns grey and it leeches up from his chest to his stomach. The get turns black, like the scribbles that shoots down his arms and legs, making his nerves feel frayed. He doesn't knows what it is or  _why_  it is, but he  _hates_  it.

But, it could be worse. He doesn’t feel like that  _all_  the time. 

The blue fades, and he is left alone.


	2. Where a nice man comes and pays him a visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caboose doesn't really like this man, but he's nice and his voice is very soft. Like a bunny. Or a very fast rabbit.

Caboose has gotten used to the recycle air, running around in circles and constantly being the same, like a bicycle.

It's a constant cycle, lights turn on and the white sun says _hello_ , and the mean men come and poke him with sticks. He doesn't really like it, but at least he's not freezing. 

But when the little sun came and said hello, there is no mean men, because something came along broke that cycle.

The itch under his skin isn't very happy.

Breathe.

And exhale. 

Nice.

There was a man there, neatly folded hands on his lap, and a straight back that was meant to give a calming vibe. He looks like a very happy, and important man.

"Hello!" He tries to wave, but the mean ropes about his arms make of difficult to move, and he worries the man will be upset he didn't wave. But the man didn't shout or wave back, instead, the man smiled.

It wasn't a very friendly smile.

"Hello Spartan-121, or do you prefer for me to call you Caboose?" The man's voice is soft, like a bunny. Or a very fast rabbit.

"I am Caboose!" The man scribbles something on the tablet he has, and the lights flicker as the holographic table lights up. 

_Children, are you ready for your lesson?_

"Caboose? Do you want to talk?" He snaps his head up, almost ripping off the mean ropes, but if he does then the mean people will start to shout and be angrier than before. He doesn't really like it.

He nods. The chilling sensation of people seeing him is unsettling, his skin breaking pit into goosebumps, and the man is still there. A man who is not the squad leader, with a heavy hand and gunpowder at his nostrils as the man leans close, he's not a child --

Breathe.

 

And exhale.

 

Good, remember you got to hold it in for a second before you let go. Remember to breathe too. Breathing is important. Others can't breathe anymore, you got to breathe for them.

"Tell me Caboose, how about we talk about the Spartans?" _He doesn't know this._

There's a very important test, and he doesn't know the answers. 

"Like, um, I don't know that?" Because he doesn't. A gaping hole constricting and expanding, trying to find sediment of knowledge to fill it with. He doesn't know.

"It's okay, but try your very hardest when you try to answer me. What comes to mind when you hear the word Spartan?" 

Gunpowder.

And shouting, mud and rain as it slides into his half mouth trying to breathe. They are rubber boots pushing him into the earth, trying to suffocate, _because he can't breathe --_

"Um, nothing." That's an honest answer, he doesn't know. The burning metallic smell and the mud. He doesn't know how to put that into words.

"That's alright, what about Spartan?" The room is dark and open, with the soft lights illuminating the room. He's at the back but that's okay, he can still hear the calculated words talking above him. Knowledge is power, someone says.

"Books!" Someone said that knowledge is power and that means books.

The man paused but continued. Slowly he put the tablet down as he started to seize him. 

"Tell me, would you like to get out of here?" Out? Away from the while sun, and the mean men. 

"That would be nice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They were so many hints and foreshadowing I'm surprise by own self.


	3. The nice man had a accent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caboose doesn't like this game anymore.

He sobs as he rattles against the closed door. He doesn't like this game anymore, he wants to go back to the white room, even with the mean men, just anything but _this_. 

Caboose, finally breathes a gasp when the door slides open.

A woman in white, White like the others, White like pure-- and in her hand was a needle longer than he has seen, cradle like a precious needing protecting.

This is Hell. 

He remembers a man said that Hell is Fury, but this Hell is cold and devoid of light as the white artificial light scrutinized him. This Hell is sharp and black from the cameras constantly viewing him from another screen when he was naked and cold--

This is Hell. 

He doesn't like it when people touch him in his no-no spot, or when they pinch his skin with the needles. They shoved it too far deep that he can feel his bones ache and cry as they carve their initials on to him.

The woman is pretty, soft like an angel, even wears white like the artificial angels he saw once, with white fluffy wings that looked as soft as a mattress, and the rosy cheeks that plump when they smiled softly.

That was an sweet angel that gets stuck on the top of your mouth, in between your teeth where your tongue can't reach.

This is no angel.

She looks vengeful, her eyes firing up as she marchs to him. 

"A discipline soldier does not cry. Someone from your pedigree should not even be showing such foolish emotions."  Pedigree, like the doggie shows that he remembers watching in hot August morning when his mom was playing with his curls --

A sharp pain from his ribs, nrusing his miscles and his skin streched and raw, "get up soldier!" 

A good soldier does not disobey.

Thats what they taught him and when the man with the weird smile comes in, he brings a friend with him. He has bright eyes and a southern roll in his tongue.

"Tell me Caboose, do you want to leave this place?" Cold, like bugs with their little legs crawling slowly from his spine.

Softly, not too loud or the mean lady will come in, "Please." 

And the Southern man smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considerably very short, I didn't want to torture myself too much with this writing. There's just a slight change in canon, like the Director actually does need Caboose that will be explained later, but it doesn't actually affect the actual canon line at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I played around with this idea, so I just went ahead and wrote something. But I really wanted to make something more with the concept, so here it is. 
> 
>  
> 
> (P.S. if you read the other story, the one that inspired this, count this as if Caboose didn't die)


End file.
